Introducing my new blog....

I'm moving to Africa. New chapter, new blog.

http://manolosonamission.wordpress.com
www.manolosonamission.com

Why in the world did I move to NYC?

My condo in Chicago vs. my apartment in Manhattan. Same price. You decide? Which one is better?

Chicago:

Manhattan:

The Best Compliment

My boyfriend just got back from a trip to his parent's house and whips out from his bag a wrapped present for me.

BF: This is from my mom for your graduation.
Me: Oh, wow, that was nice. I wasn't expecting anything.

I open up the present, and it's a new work-out outfit. I love it. My boyfriend must have seen my mismatched concoctions for months now, trying to keep up with trendy New Yorkers in Central Park, and decided to help his mom pick out the snazziest blue workout outfit in the store for me.

BF: She wanted to pick out pink for you but I told her blue (His mother has 5 sons, of course she wanted to pick out pink for me :)
Me: Oh, that is sweet. So you helped her pick it out?
BF: Yes, but check the size. We were both really worried it is not your size.

I check out the size and it says "Small."

Me: (Worried about what he really thought my true size was). It's my size....what size did you think I was?
BF: Extra Small.

He didn't even know how much they made my day.

Story Corps

Sometimes I wonder if God messed up and spilled ten extra doses of emotion into my DNA.
People who know me by acquaintance might be surprised by that statement. From what I’ve heard, I’m perceived as strong, independent, ambitious and tenacious. Qualities like this don’t exude emotion. But those who really know me, know I am an incredible softy.

I shed a tear almost everyday when I hear or imagine other people’s stories. I shed a tear last week when I saw an elderly immigrant woman have trouble interacting in English with her grandson. I shed a tear yesterday watching a commercial.

And I am streaming tears right now listening to Story Corps online. Story Corps, sponsored by NPR, has booths all around the country that any two people can enter to tell a story. Any story. The NYC Grand Central booth closed yesterday, so I went online to hear some of the stories recorded there. They are only a couple of minutes each, but all are so beautiful and poignant. After each segment, I literally need another tissue.
http://www.storycorps.net/listen/

I love stories. And Story Corps just reminds us that we are as important as all the fictional stories we love in the movies and books. Take a second to listen to some. It will melt your heart.

To Mac or not to Mac?

O. M. G.

I am seriously considering the purchase of a MAC. I am scared s&*$less but I am seriously considering it. MAC lovers are so flippin in love with their computers that it is making me a believer. But I am also scared of all the c$%* they go through when trying to convert word files to and from PCs. Moreover, I am super scared about not being able to right click.

One of my friends finally gave into the MAC and she says her life has become a mess since then. Nothing converts and she cannot figure out how to maneuver it. However there are so many stories of converters that feel like life has gotten easier.

I feel like a MAC person. I love its simplicity, its graphics and its concept. I always admire the MAC store glass cube on 5th avenue and revel in its genius simplicity. I look at MACbook owners at Starbucks and often ponder as to why and when they made the switch? Is it my time?

I love photoshop and my poor PC just cannot hang with me. Does a Mac work better? I think it may, but that dang rightclick not existing gets me really worried! What do you guys think? To MAC or not to MAC?

Reading Reward

I have officially completed my Masters Degree requirements! I cannot even begin to tell you how relieved I feel. After 2 years of constant guilt over every waking minute I spend NOT on school work and after the last 6 months of juggling a full time job during the day and researching and writing my thesis in the evenings, I finally turned in all my requirements and was given my official “congratulations” by the university registrar.

As I walked home leisurely from campus, on cloud 9 amazed that I didn’t have to rush, I stepped into the university bookstore to pick up my graduation gown and diploma frame. As I was waiting in line, I saw a book I’ve been dying to read “The Tipping Point” and decided to spend the $14.95 as a reward to myself.
I bought myself a book as a reward for finishing two years of reading books. Yes.

But this is different. I LOVE to read for fun. Reading is my crack. Although I have read WONDERFUL articles, journals, case studies and more the past two years, I have been in serious withdrawal of getting lost in a story. It’s kind of like being in love. Everything around you stops and you are engrossed so passionately into that one thing that chaos can be brewing around you and all you care about is that book, or love. So today was the first morning in years I cracked open a book on the subway, instead of a highlighter and copies of articles. Man, it felt so good, and no one on the train had any idea of what a pleasure that was for me.


Everyone in my family loves to read. I’ve often wondered why? Not many of my friends take pleasure in books as we do. Is it nurture? Our mother often dropped us off at the library for hours when she had to do errands (doctor, grocery store, etc). The library was our favorite babysitter. Stacks of books. Rows of magazines. Rooms filled with toys. Bookcases of videos and CDs. The sky was the limit. In the summer, we always participated in the library’s summer reading program. Our names were written on posterboard and each time we read a book and reviewed it to a librarian, we received a gold star. Our starts were always off the charts. In fact, I remember reading so many books in the summer, that our mother signed us up at 2 summer reading programs! So I often wonder if our love of reading came from all the time in the library, or if it is just a gene.

In any case, when friends tell me that don’t really read, my heart drops. Why!? How can your life be void of this absolute pleasure? Is it nature or nurture?